


Slowly Broken

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Roadrat Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 08:31:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: Something about lines and boundaries and losing the need for them.





	Slowly Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Froggyflan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggyflan/gifts).



There’s something about lines and boundaries and keeping people at arm’s length. These are comforting things, things he is used to applying to the relationships he invariably must create with those around him. As much distance as he can put between himself and the other bodies filling this world, the better he feels.

Some people try to make it difficult; they clutch and pry for selfish reasons. Old colleagues who think they’re owed; new comers who just don’t know when to quit. Those who try to worm their way close find themselves violently, definitively pushed away.

With Junkrat, it was simple, to begin with. He had his mask to begin with, a face to hide his face behind. There were layers and layers between them, and so it was safe to step just slightly closer for the sake of clarity.

It was foolish to take that clarifying step closer, to agree to this partnership. They work well together, take more profit and less damage when they are in sync, but he can’t help himself from starting to _care_ , not about the money he might lose but about the _man_. He wants to keep the little rat safe, not just because it’s his job but because, god help him, he _likes_ the twitchy little arsonist.

And when Junkrat scooches in close one night, relaxing with him out in the middle of fucking nowhere in the Outback, where no one can see, no one can hear, no one can _know_ , and tells him his name is Jamison, _Jamie_ , he surprises himself to hell and back by responding quietly with his own name. He’ll never forget the way Jamie laughed at that, utter self-satisfied glee, throwing an arm around him and asking _Mako, what’s for supper?_

There’s something about thinning lines and blurred boundaries and allowing someone to come within reach. The concepts are strange, hideously foreign and the only thing that helps is that the person he’s letting near is Jamie. Jamie, who has carefully and strategically blurred the line between partner and friend.

Junkrat could have remained distant and some kind of professional to him, but Jamie would not allow that. He was subtle with his lures, laying bait like breadcrumbs for birds. The only armor between them was what Roadhog placed, and even then, that was slowly stripped away by those clever hands.

One can only get so close to a thing before it begins to blur and fracture. Yet they move better together than they have ever before, perfectly aware of one another’s limits and bodies in motion.

He’s afraid his compliance gives Jamie the wrong idea.

When Jamie’s fingers wander across his bare shoulder to follow the long line of sutures he’s just placed, he knows things are changing. He can feel his blood rushing to the skin to chase those fingers, a low heat building in his chest that is terribly like desire. He can’t say at that moment that he approves of this development, and so calls the feeling apprehension. When he stretches out on his bedroll at the edge of their camp, he finds his own hands, clumsier and rougher, following the same trail.

A night comes when he catches Jamie smiling at him and feels that warmth flare up again in his chest. There’s a feeling like burning hands all down his body, leaving him feeling feverish and dazed – all due to a smile. A thought crawls across his brain, insidious and terrible; Jamie’s mouth looks soft and gentle, would feel nice against his own.

He is almost alarmed when this burning feeling becomes a natural, expected response to Jamie’s attention.

In the end, it’s about lines erased and boundaries being crossed and having just one other person to hold close. He doesn’t understand these things at all and they can be, at times, overwhelming. Somehow being close to this one person makes the distance he’s built between himself and everyone else seem that much stronger, that much better. 

There’s no room for selfishness this close, and that disturbs him more than the physicality of the relationship.

He knows this relationship has moved beyond indulgence and into something beyond description in its debauched wonder. This is purely fact, not speculation, because when Jamie touches him his mind goes numb; when he tries to rationalize this to himself, the words refuse to come.

Roadhog is a name he wears like a second skin; a new person to fit better into this ugly, brutal world. Jamie calls him Mako and somehow, he doesn’t mind. When he pushes his mask up to eat or drink, he’s always felt those eyes on him, bright and curious, eating him up; the first time they kiss, he feels nauseous and exultant at the same time, the sensations churning together into something suitably awkward.

Jamie never asks him to take mask off, never demands anything he hasn’t already offered in this particular arena. He seems to be more sensitive than Roadhog would initially have given him credit for. So, when his fingers slip beneath the leather, pulling it up over his nose, he hears the hitch of Jamie’s breath and knows he wants to say something. He’ll say he doesn’t have to do this, but he does, so he doesn’t give him the chance to speak. It’s like ripping off an adhesive or masturbating in the shower; a quick jerk is for the best.

They kiss and it’s strange to feel skin against his cheeks. Jamie cups his face, burn-rough fingers curling against tattooed jowls. He pulls back, their eyes locking as he smiles. “Holy dooley, yer a keeper. Though I always imagined ya’d have blue eyes,” he says, grinning in delight. “Softer, somethin’ ta hide.”

“Hope brown isn’t a terrible disappointment,” Hog rumbles, trying not to sound offended, since he’s not.

Jamie kisses him again, his smile softening somewhat as he pulls them close together. “Not a’tall. The scars ain’t either.”

Sometimes it’s eerie, how they seem to think the same thoughts.

Laying together in the indulgent warmth of a hotel bed, his apprehension cycles through him, like a pulse, as Jamie whispers eager questions, trying to unravel him.

“What’s your last name?”

“… Rutledge.”

Each answer is rewarded by a soft kiss, and though they’ve kissed before, it’s never been gentle like this. Each one makes him shiver slightly. The words are whispered against his ear, so softly and so carefully it’s very nearly obscene. “How old are you?”

“Forty-eight.”

A kiss against his jaw and he hears the gentle rasp of skin against his stubble, wonders for the first time how it feels to someone else. “Birthday?”

Some soft sound escapes him, something with too many vowels to be anything but a moan. For a man looking for answers, Jamie is terribly distracting. “Last month,” he manages, his voice raw. “twenty-first.”

Jamie makes a disappointed sound, lamenting over having missed it. A kiss is pressed to his neck, teeth finding their way into the mix. “Favourite holiday?”

“Christmas?” It comes as more of a question, his breath hitching as fingers hook into the ring on his right nipple.

“What?!” Jamie barks, pulling back in mock upset. “But Christmas is _weeks_ away, mate!”

Mako nods, smiling faintly. This is moving too fast, and he should stop it, but sometimes, sometimes it’s nice not to be the responsible one. He thinks he should say something, that it’s fine, not to worry about it, that he barely cares about holidays anyway… but he says none of those things, only nods.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Jamie says, and grinning broadly again. “Let’s go somewhere _fun_.”

“We could have fun right here,” Mako says, his own grin blooming as Jamie wriggles his way up onto the prow of his belly. Without his prosthetics on, this grinding wiggle is the only way for him to manage the feat, but Mako certainly doesn’t mind.

Their fingers lace together as they kiss again, and then Jamie’s moving, giggling as he fishes out the rapidly depleting bottle of lube they’d stolen last time they’d blown through a city, Mako finds himself half hard by the time Jamie is settled between his spread legs, the stump of his shortened arm resting on Mako’s inner thigh as he slathers cool gel past Mako’s balls and over his entrance with his remaining hand.

Preparation doesn’t need to take so long, but Jamie likes it, likes the way it teases, Mako knows that much already. They’ve only fucked a handful of times, but he’s a quick learner. Honestly, he can’t complain; he lounges back against the pillows, taking deep breaths and trying not to make too much noise.

Soon enough, though, Jamie gets bored. There’s better things to be doing, anyway, and Mako can’t complain about that either.

Heat and pressure and flesh and salt and _oh_ , there, sparks behind his eyes. Motion and taste and the steady ramble of Jamie’s voice as they move. His eyes squeeze closed and roll back in his head, pleasure tearing through him to override the discomfort of the initial penetration. Their bodies rock together, tension and strain and friction, Jamie’s hand and mouth all over wherever they can reach, griping him as he thrusts and jerks and moves and it’s really too much, too much; he feels like screaming or dying or both.

Afterwards, slick with sweat and drowsy despite the flood of endorphins, Jamie flops across his gut and drifts, murmuring endearments. He lays still, listening to the patter of December rain against the window and is amazed by how good this feels, laying here completely naked, barefaced with Jamie resting on him.

He has never felt like this before, and he cherishes that.

“You ever been to Luna Park?” He asks idly, knowing the answer already and still managing to grin broadly as Jamie sits up with a gasp.

“Brilliant, mate, yer bloody brilliant!” The kiss that comes is almost chaste, matter of fact and quick. “We can have all _kindsa_ fun out there!”

Sounds like a plan, or at least as much of one as either of them ever make.


End file.
